


Acting Lessons

by FalseRoar



Series: Can You Wake Up? [14]
Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Bad Acting, Cinderella Elements, Fake Kiss, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Mark Fischbach Egos, Multi, Post-Who Killed Markiplier?, School Play, Ship Teasing, Shut Up Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-11-01 22:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20522918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalseRoar/pseuds/FalseRoar
Summary: Another short story in the same universe as Can You Wake Up? in which Yandereplier comes to Y/N for some acting advice and the other egos get involved. In between running lines, the egos discuss Cinderella, improvisation, and stage kisses.





	Acting Lessons

It was a quiet afternoon in the Iplier house, which is to say there currently wasn’t anything on fire and the constant mayhem and destruction was at a minimum, or at least in another room where you couldn’t hear as you sat on a couch in the living room, reading.

That is, until you heard a throat clearing and looked up to see Yan standing in front of you, dressed in their usual schoolgirl outfit and with what could have passed for a friendly smile on their face. At least, you hoped it was friendly as you said, “Oh, hey Yan. Did you need something?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Yandereplier said in a cheery voice. “I could really use a partner for some script reading.”

“A script?” you asked, putting your book aside to get a better look at the badly stapled packets of papers in question, which from here looked to be covered in several scribbles and various hearts. “Are you working on a new skit?”

“Uh, not exactly…” Yan dragged their foot back and forth across the carpet before looking up at you, the picture of embarrassment as they admitted, “It’s for a school play.”

“That’s cool,” you said, thinking it would be good for Yan to have some kind of hobby that didn’t involve their Senpai or pointy objects. “What’s the play?”

“Cinderella!”

Well, so much for that idea.

Yan must have seen your disappointment, because suddenly they lunged forward and grabbed both of your hands in their own and pulled them to their chest as they said, “Please, Y/N! Rumor is, my Senpai is trying out for the role of the prince! _Prince Charming_, Y/N! I _need_ to get the part of Cinderella! And to do that, I need to practice with someone before auditions, and it would really help if I could maybe get some advice too?”

“Uh, I’m not sure I’m the best person…” you said, trying and failing to get your hands back. Yan’s grip was _strong_. “I mean, Mark is an actor, he’s been in plenty of plays.”

“He’s also in Texas for, like, weeks!” Yan said, pouting. “Plus, he gets a little intense when it comes to this kind of thing.”

“Oh, really?” you said. You were starting to lose the feeling in your fingers.

From the corner of the room, another voice added, “And the last thing we want is to feed into Mark’s already inflated ego.”

You shot a glance at Dark, but he hadn’t looked up from his own book, not even as he added in an undertone, “Not like we don’t have enough of them running around as it is.”

You looked around the room and noted that there _were_ other egos here, including the Host, Bim Trimmer, Google, and Silver Shepherd. “What about one of the other egos? They’re all in front of the camera way more than I am, they have to know something about acting.”

“Debatable,” Dark muttered under his breath.

“And we try not to act against each other when it comes to the romance stuff,” Bim chimed in as he looked up from his phone. “Last thing we want is for Kinkiplier to get involved, am I right?”

Silver and Yan nodded in agreement while you tried not to roll your eyes.

“Kinkiplier, right.”

“Says Y/N, expressing doubt in the existence of the ego despite the reassurances from Mark and his other egos that Kinkiplier does in fact exist,” the Host said.

“An ego that I’ve never actually met before, but who everyone blames when ever something even slightly embarrassing happens,” you added.

“Look, the man’s kinks may happen to include dressing up like the rest of us to do his…things,” Silver said. He threw up his massive gloved hands and said, “No shame, of course, but things get _weird _when he’s involved. We all know his handiwork when we see it…Eventually.”

“If you knew some of the situations he’s put us in…” Bim said and shuddered. “Point is, we’re not about to risk getting _him_ involved for some school play.”

“Please, you’re my only choice here,” Yan said, not doing a lot to build up your self-esteem. They knelt down in front of you and, turning on the puppy dog eyes as much as they could, asked, “Will you be my Prince, Y/N?”

“Will you let go of my hands?”

“It’s a deal!” Yan shouted, jumping up to their feet with a sprightly bounce. They let go of your hands only to immediately pull you into the middle of the room and hand you one of the marked-up scripts.

“Wait, we’re doing this here?” you asked, very aware of the others in the room.

“Sure, why not?” Yan asked. “If these guys want to throw in suggestions, that only helps me. And it’s not like anyone’s recording this, right?”

Bim immediately sighed and put his phone away while Google raised his hand to make a comment and thought better of it.

“Fine,” you said, already knowing you were going to regret this. “So, do we just start at the beginning, or…?”

“No, no, we’re going to skip straight to the good stuff,” Yan said, turning your pages for you until they found the right scene almost a third of the way into the story.

“’The scene is a grand ballroom’,” you read aloud, “’The reluctant Prince paces the floor, avoiding the other suitors who swarm around him until he makes eye contact with Cinderella, who—‘”

“Will be me,” Yan said with confidence as they took a few steps away and waved the script at you. “Basically, you spot me walking in, come swooping across the room, knocking everyone out of the way just for a chance to dance with me.”

They waited, and then gestured, and you finally picked up on the hint and scanned the script for your line as you walked toward Yan, your eyes on the page.

“What is this? Has a star fallen from the heavens to grace this place?” you read aloud. You paused at the stage direction and gave a belated bow. “Oh star, my starlight! Please, what may I call you?”

“My name is unimportant,” Yan said and you looked up to see that they weren’t reading from the page like you. They had the words memorized, apparently, but… “Forgive me, my Prince, I only came here to enjoy the dance with the rest of the kingdom. I did not wish to disturb you.”

“I-if that is your wish, then of course, Starlight. All are welcome here tonight, you most of all,” you read.

You tried to ignore Silver Shepherd as he leaned over to Bim and said, “This Prince likes to lay it on thick, doesn’t he?”

You continued, “But may I be so selfish as to ask for a dance in exchange?”

“Oh, there it is,” Bim muttered. “Always a catch.”

Yan glanced at the script and said, “Then apparently they dance for a while, music plays, yadda yadda other people who don’t matter, and our next lines are…here.”

They turned your page for you before saying, “My Prince, the hour. I must leave.”

You frowned but answered, “Please, Starlight, stay just a little longer. I cannot bear to see you leave, not yet.”

“But it is almost midnight.”

“What do hours matter? This time is too short, but it’s enough to know I need so much more. I can see in your eyes that you feel the same, so why do you turn and leave?”

“I am sorry, my Prince, but I must leave.”

“Have I imagined it? Forgive me if I have trespassed, but I thought…I thought I saw something more. But how can a star feel anything for a mortal such as I?”

“My Prince, do you not see the answer in my eyes?” Yan said, and you looked up to see their eyes were glassy, all of their concentration on reciting the lines. “I love you. I want nothing more than to—But I must leave.”

Yan blinked and glanced at the script again. “And that’s where Cinderella runs away, there’s a big chase scene, lose the shoe and the magic wears off as the clock strikes midnight, end scene. Did I get all of my lines right?”

“Um, yeah, you remembered them all…” you said uneasily and glanced toward the others for help.

The Host had one hand over his mouth, either to block the shape of his muttered narration or to keep from laughing, you weren’t sure, and Dark was pinching the bridge of his nose while still determinedly staring at the book held in one hand.

It was up to Bim then to speak up and say, “Yan, hon, you gotta put some feeling in your words!”

“What do you mean?” Yan asked.

“I mean, when you say ‘I love you’ the same way you say ‘There’s gum on my shoe,’ there’s a bit of a problem,” Bim answered. He glanced around the room and added, “It’s not just me, right?”

You and Silver nodded, and Google said, “Even I am capable of expressing more emotion than that.”

Silver thought about correcting the android and then shrugged. “Well, I guess homicidal rage is an emotion, so you’re not wrong.”

“So, what do I do?” Yan asked.

“Relax,” Bim said, jumping up to stand beside Yan. “You’ve got all the words figured out, now you just need to put some ‘oomph’ behind them. Do you know what I mean?”

Yan thought for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Then run it again from the top!”

You cleared your throat and asked again, “Please, what may I call you?”

Yan flashed a giant grin and said in an over the top cheery voice, “My name is unimportant! Forgive me, my Prince, I only came here to enjoy the dance with the rest of the kingdom! I did not wish to disturb you!”

“Uh, better?” you said. “But I’m not sure that’s the right emotion for this scene.”

“What, really?” Yan asked, looking at their script again. “But this is supposed to be a happy scene, right? All of the dancing and love and all that?”

“Well, yeah, but you sounded more like it was all just kind of a joke, like more ha-ha happy than love scene happy,” you said. You rubbed the back of your neck and looked to Bim again, who nodded in encouragement. “I mean, try to imagine you’re in this scene, that you’re Cinderella. How would you feel?”

Yan looked at you blankly and you tried again.

“Maybe try imagining that the Prince is your Senpai when you’re talking to him? How would you say these things to him?”

Yan nodded and said, “Yeah, yeah, I think I can do that. Pretend you’re my Senpai.”

They cleared their throat and said, “F-forgive me, my Prince, I only came here to…to enjoy the dance with the rest of the kingdom. I did not wish to disturb you.”

You relaxed as Yan shyly looked up at you before staring back down at the floor again, hands tight behind their back and their shoulders tucked in from embarrassment. This was a lot better, and you felt more confident yourself as you read again, “If that is your wish, then of course, Starlight. All are welcome here tonight, you most of all. But may I be so selfish as to ask for a dance in exchange?”

Too late, you saw the other egos shaking their heads, and even Dark had stopped pretending to read and was halfway out of his chair before Yan cried out, “Oh, Senpai! I thought you would never ask!”

With a sudden change of energy, Yan wrapped their arms around you, pulling you in close as they said, “Just you and me, for hours and hours and hours. What could be better?”

“Uh, then midnight comes,” you wheezed, trying to break free from Yan’s clinging grip as you added, “And Cinderella has to _let go.”_

“Why would I ever let go of my Senpai?” Yan purred. “And I know my Senpai would never let go of me! I love you so much I could just cut you open and crawl inside to be closer to you!”

Yan blinked in surprise when they found their feet leaving the ground as Dark shook them by the back of their white shirt, adding “Drop it,” in the same voice of a pet owner trying to convince their cat to drop a mouse.

Yan let go and you staggered back, coughing a little.

“Oh,” they said. “I, uh, went a little overboard pretending, huh?”

Dark just dropped them and went back to his seat, where he held his book up in front of his face in an apparent effort to block out the rest of the room.

“Y-yeah,” you said as Silver offered his arm for you to lean on until you regained your breath. “You could say that.”

Bim placed a hand on Yan’s shoulder and said, “Maybe being in the play isn’t the best thing for you, Yan. I mean, if you get a little too excited when it’s just Y/N, what are you going to do if it really is your Senpai playing the prince?”

You tried not to feel insulted by that “just Y/N” when you saw Yan’s lips start to tremble and their eyes tear up. “Hey, it’s okay, Yan. Did you even really want to be in this play, or were you just doing it because he _might_ be in it?”

“Well of course I only wanted to do it because of him!” Yan bawled. “I can’t just let some, some _hussy_ be Cinderella and have him confess his love to them on stage, in front of everyone!”

You and Bim exchanged looks and he said, “It’s not really confessing though, is it?”

“It’s just a play, Yan,” you added. “None of it’s real.”

Yan shook their head and said, “No, you can’t just say you love someone and it mean nothing!”

“What? Of course you can say the words and it mean nothing, watch,” Bim said. He turned to you and placed both hands on your shoulders as he spoke. “Y/N, you would not last two rounds on one of my shows. Like seriously, blood and viscera everywhere, not pretty. You’re never giving me the studio time I clearly deserve, and you’re certainly not as handsome or as talented as my dear Matthias, but I want you to know…I love you.”

Bim smiled and said to Yan, “See? Absolutely zero attraction, isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“I kind of just want to slap you now.”

“Exactly!” Bim said, oblivious as he added, “They’re just words, Yan. Anyone can say them.”

“But I have to be Cinderella so he’ll fall in love with me like he’s supposed to!” Yan shuddered and added, “And I don’t know what I’ll do if someone else gets the part…”

There were several nervous faces around the room at that, but before anyone could answer, Yan suggested, “Maybe, maybe if I see how someone else plays the part, I can figure out how to do it. Or how to be okay with it if it’s not me. Please?”

You sighed and asked, “Do you really think it’s going to help? Maybe you—”

“Thank you, Y/N!”

You stepped back quickly before Yan could hug you again and they spun to face the other egos. “So, which of you wants to play Cinderella?”

At this point you realized that your audience had grown without you realizing it. Possibly attracted by the noise, there were now more egos than you remembered in the room. A second Google had taken up position in the opposite corner, watching it all with an impassiveness that suggested his internal drive was focused on something else, and your couch had been taken over by three egos jockeying for space so they could watch. 

One of the new arrivals, who insisted on wearing his cowboy hat and reflective sunglasses even indoors, shrugged and said, “Well, I am quite the actor, if I do say so myself.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who would,” Silver scoffed.

Ed bristled and said, “I’ll have you know a fine salesman has to do quite a bit of acting! Why, I pulled out the ol’ charm and the right story and I managed to sell my son to a couple with 15 boys of their own already. Best deal I ever made, I’ll tell you what.”

“Uh…” you looked around to see if anyone else heard that, but aside from the Host, who gave a noncommittal shrug, and Dark, whose brow was creased and his eyes darting back and forth as if doing his own mental calculus, no one else commented. Even the third ego on the couch appeared to be too nervous to notice the connection as he looked from one person to the next and judged the distance between himself and the nearest exit.

“Yeah, I’m not casting you,” Yan said, waving for the salesman to sit back down. “Anyone else?”

Another ego wearing a crown and a long fur cape poked his head up over the couch and raised his hand.

“I, I’m King of the Squirrels,” he said. After checking around to make sure everyone was still aware of that fact, he scurried into the middle of the room. “And you said Y/N is a prince? Does that mean we’re related?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you said.

On the couch, Dr. Iplier gave a noncommittal sound and said, “Well, if we’re going based on European royal tradition, more of them were related than not, so…”

“Besides, I’m not a real prince. It’s just pretend, right Yan?”

“It’s not pretend that Senpai is _my_ prince,” Yan said dreamily.

The King of the Squirrels took your hands as he said, “Y/N can be my prince! Or my princess! Or both, if they want! Doesn’t matter if it’s pretend or not!”

“That’s sweet King,” you said, smiling. “I’m just trying to help Yan with their play. Do you know the story of Cinderella?”

“Um…” The King hesitated and then said, “I’m okay with just watching.”

Dark lowered his book and frowned at the ego, but his thoughts were interrupted when he heard a soft swear come from the Host’s direction. He glanced over at the ego, who had a hand to his head as though fighting off a headache or possibly facepalming.

“Just remember that it’s all pretend, we’re acting,” you said, eyes on Yan. If nothing else, you wanted to get this point across to them.

“Say,” Yan said, locking eyes with you but talking to the King, “King, can you act?”

“Can I?” The King thought and then nodded with a grin. “I believe I can.”

“Then can you act like you love Y/N and tell them how you feel?”

Before you could protest, the King nodded and pulled you into a hug, the scent of almond butter almost overpowering as he said, “I love you, Y/N! You’ll always be a prince to me.”

You couldn’t help but smile and return the hug with a muffled, “Love you too, King.”

The ego stepped back and looked at Yan expectantly. “How’d I do?”

“Great,” Yan said. “Now that we’re done acting, do you love Y/N?”

“Of course!”

Yan looked at you and gestured toward the King as though that proved their point.

“That doesn’t count,” you said.

Yan just shrugged and said, “If you say so. What about you, Dr. Iplier?”

The doctor shrugged and said, “Well, I have been known to act here or there. Let me give it a shot.”

“Can I be Cinderella this time?” you asked. “I’m getting kind of tired of saying the same lines over and over again.”

“What? No, you’re getting better with your lines every time,” Yan said, while Bim and Silver made iffy noises at that. “It would be weird to change it now.”

“But he just talks so _much_,” you muttered, eyeing Cinderella’s much shorter lines.

Yan sat down on the couch next to the other new ego who was twisting his handkerchief and trying not to take up too much space, while being careful to keep some distance between them and Ed. Nearby Bim and Silver moved over to make way for the King as he plopped down between them and immediately started whispering excitedly. Once they were ready, Yan said, “Okay, Dr. Cinderella has just walked into the ballroom and our Prince Y/N locks eyes with them.”

“What is this?” you read from the script, sure that at this rate you were going to know the prince’s lines by heart.

Before you could continue, Dr. Iplier swept forward and said, “I’m sorry, my Prince, but you’re dying.”

“Wait, what?”

You heard a few murmurs of interest around the room.

“You’re suffering from a deadly brain tumor that has clearly affected your ability to recognize faces. If you look around the room right now, you’ll see that everyone looks the same to you.” Dr. Iplier said, making you feel more than a little uncomfortable by how accurate that statement was in this particular room. He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and continued, “It’s the most logical explanation for how you can only recognize the love of your life by their footwear.”

“Oh, in our version of the play the ball’s a masquerade deal,” Yan answered cheerfully. “Everyone’s wearing masks so no one knows who anyone is. Isn’t that romantic?”

There was more than one sharp inhale at the word “masks” and general disagreement at that idea, but Google was the first to speak up. “Based on my preliminary research, I see nothing ‘romantic’ about the concept of being unable to identify possible partners.”

“Research?” you asked.

“Markiplier has commented several times in the past that he wishes to put on a masquerade ball involving his fans,” Google answered. “I have merely looked into the feasibility and logistics of such a plan.”

“He’s not still thinking about doing it, is he?” you asked, privately thinking that you had dealt with enough “masks” to last a lifetime already.

Google started to answer, but Yan made a noise and pointed at the script with a “keep going” expression.

You hesitated, looked at the script, and faced Dr. Iplier as you said, “This is terrible news. Please, my starlight, if I am dying will you at least grant me your time before the night is over?”

Dr. Iplier smiled and nodded approvingly before dropping into his serious doctor expression to say, “I’m sorry, my Prince, but we only have until midnight.”

You faked a shocked gasp. “No! That’s far too short a time! Please, can’t you stay longer than that?”

“I can, but I’m not the problem, Your Highness. I’m sorry, but your disease will kill you on the stroke of midnight. Also, your father has already disowned you and named his dog as the next heir to the throne.”

“Well, at least the kingdom will be in good paws.”

“No,” Yan groaned as you and Dr. Iplier cracked and started giggling. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go at all! How’s Cinderella supposed to have her nice and happy ending if her prince is dead?!”

“She gets hired to be the royal dog groomer and makes enough of a living wage to move out of her terrible home situation?” you suggested.

“But that’s not romantic,” Yan complained. “Dr. Iplier, if you can’t stick to the script then you’re out.”

The doctor shrugged and flashed you a smile before taking a seat in one of the open chairs.

“Um…you, what’s-your-name, you can be Cinderella,” Yan said, pointing.

Eric Derekson gestured to himself and said, “M-me? I, uh, I don’t know…”

“Come on, you can do it,” Bim said encouragingly, and the other egos chimed in until Eric was standing next to you, wiping his brow with his handkerchief.

“It’s okay, Eric,” you said, smiling. “We’re just reading lines from a script. It’s not a commercial or a sketch or anything like that, no one’s even recording this.”

Google pointedly did not make eye contact with any of his other units, who by this point had all entered the room and taken up stations where they could all get a good angle of the “performances.”

“Y-yeah, I can do this,” Eric said, more to himself than anything as he took several deep breaths. “I can do this.”

He jumped as Yan’s phone dinged and shook his head, muttering, “Oh, this isn’t going to end well…”

The King of the Squirrels murmured something and Bim nodded in agreement. “Yeah, Yan did have a point there. Nothing we’ve seen so far has been very ‘romantic,’ and I don’t think we can just blame Y/N’s acting.”

“Seriously Trimmer, did I do something to you?” You glared at the couch and saw that there was a lot of whispering back and forth going on there and all around the room now as the extra scripts were being passed around. And when had more egos come in? You didn’t remember Bing or Chef Iplier being here before, or the Jims. Was everyone in the house going to be watching this?

“It’s just missing something,” Bim said, ignoring your indignation.

“It could be because none of you are actually doing anything,” Dark said. His eyes flickered up from his book and, seeing that nearly everyone in the room was staring at him, said, “You’re all standing feet apart, just saying the words at each other. I would hardly call that acting _or_ romantic.”

“He does make a good point,” Dr. Iplier admitted. “Isn’t this supposed to be a dance scene?”

Yan started to say something but paused when Google leaned over and spoke quietly to them. A second later, the android straightened up and with more readiness than you expected from him said, “I can provide music.”

“Do we have to?” you asked.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I know, I know you’d rather dance with someone else,” Eric said, “I can just…”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that,” you said, catching the ego’s elbow before he could walk away.

“Great, then cue the music,” Yan said, pointing at Google. They waited for a slow waltz to start playing before they said, “Once again, the Prince spots Cinderella and invites them to dance. Only be romantic this time!”

You held back a huge sigh if only for Eric’s sake and started over again. “What is this? Has a star fallen from the heavens to grace this place?”

You were getting pretty good at the bow by this point, and at the bottom of it you looked up at Eric and said, “Oh star, my starlight! Please, what may I call you?”

Eric spoke, stumbling over his lines much like you had the first time you read them aloud, but every time he looked up at you for confirmation you gave him an encouraging smile. This was a big deal for him after all, speaking up in front of everyone like this.

“But may I be so selfish as to ask for a dance in exchange?” you said, holding out a hand for Eric.

He hesitated and shook his head, saying softly, “I-I can’t…”

“Just follow my lead, it’ll be okay,” you said quietly, taking his hands and showing him where to place them. “Nothing fancy, we’re just going to sway back and forth. See?”

His hands were shaking, and he kept looking down at his prosthetics until you poked him in the forehead and said, “Look at me, okay?”

He nodded, closed his eyes and whispered under his breath before opening them and focusing on your face. Together, you moved back and forth in time to the music, and gradually he started to relax until—

“Sorry, sorry!” Eric moaned when he saw your wince, but you kept him from pulling away.

“It’s fine,” you said. “I barely even felt it. You wouldn’t believe how many times I stepped on JJ’s toes when he was teaching me.”

Behind his book, Dark scowled and the music skipped a beat when the android winced at a sound too high for the others to hear just yet. Taking that as a cue, Yan spoke up, reading from the script as they said, “The dancing continues until the hour draws near. This is your line, Eric.”

“Be sure to show us how you really feel,” Bim chimed in.

“My, uh, my Prince, the hour.” Eric said, eyes darting toward the others. “I must leave.”

“Please, Starlight, stay just a little longer. I cannot bear to see you leave, not yet.”

“But it is almost midnight!”

“What do hours matter? This time is too short, but it’s enough to know I need so much more. I can see in your eyes that you feel the same, so why do you turn and leave?”

“I am sorry, my Prince,” Eric said, pausing to take a deep breath before he started to pull away. “But I must leave.”

“Have I imagined it?” You reached out to grab his hand. “Forgive me if I have trespassed, but I thought…I thought I saw something more. But how can a star feel anything for a mortal such as I?”

“My Prince, do you not see the answer in my eyes?” Eric read the next line and looked into your eyes. “I—I, uh, I…”

And then Eric broke with a suddenness that startled you and everyone else in the room as he pulled you into a hug and said, “I love you!”

After a second you patted Eric’s shaking shoulders and said, “I love you too, Eric.”

His sobbing only grew louder when you asked if he was okay, and eventually Dr. Iplier managed to talk the sniffling ego into sitting down on the couch where he could talk him down. You couldn’t understand what the ego was saying through the tears, but apparently the doctor could make something out. He nodded a few times and explained to you and the room at large, “Sorry about that, apparently it brought up some bad memories from the last time he said that.”

Eric sobbed again but you saw a thumbs up come from the ego’s curled in frame, and Dr. Iplier translated, “He says he’s going to be fine, just give him some time.”

While that was going on, Yan said, “See, Y/N? What’d I tell you?”

“I feel like that was a bad example,” you said, trying hard to ignore the sniffling coming from the other side of the room. You wanted to comfort Eric, but knew from experience that might just make things worse until he was ready for it. “For the last time, Yan, they’re just words from a script.”

“But it’s not just words!” Yan flipped through the script until they were almost to the end and pointed at the page in question. “See, the next scene between Prince Charming and Cinderella, they kiss! _Kiss_, Y/N, right in front of the whole kingdom and the whole audience and the whole school!”

“Wait, the Prince and Cinderella only get two scenes together in this whole play?” Bim asked, yanking one of the spare scripts from Silver’s oversized hands to check.

Ed Edgar shook his head and added, “Seems to be a bit too hasty, if you’re asking me.”

“But it’s still just acting,” you pointed out. “You can kiss someone and it not mean anything romantic is going on. I ki—uh, can think of several examples.”

You gave the Host a warning glare when you heard a chuckle come from his direction and could swear you saw him silently whisper the word “pineapple” to himself, but fortunately no one else seemed to notice the slip of the tongue. The other egos were too busy debating the idea between themselves, with some agreeing with you while others such as Silver saying that it would be hard to fake that kind of chemistry.

You sighed and added over the noise, “Besides, if you’re that worried about your Senpai _maybe_ kissing someone else, then why don’t you ask the director of the play if it can just be a stage kiss? There’s plenty of ways to fake a kiss on stage.”

“Tell me about it!” Wilford Warfstache cried out, causing you and several other egos to jump because he _definitely_ hadn’t been standing in the middle of the room two seconds ago. “Why I could tell you a story or two about kissing.”

“Okay, prove it,” Yan said, with a backup murmur from the other egos. They flipped through your version of the script and pointed at the page. “You two do these lines together and do the kiss, and we’ll see. Y/N, you’re still the Prince, Wilford, you’re Cinderella.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way!” Wilford said with a chuckle.

For the benefit of the others, Yan said, “We all know the story, after the ball and the magic wears off, Cinderella goes back to her tragic life, the Prince searches the whole kingdom for the one person who can wear the glass slipper, a bunch of dramatic nonsense, and then they’re finally together again. Now that he’s sure he’s talking to the right girl, the Prince says…”

“Oh, right. Um…” You glanced at the line Yan had pointed out. “Starlight? Is that really you? Are we finally, finally together again?”

“You bet we are, Princey!” Wilford had both arms around you, and with a wide smile said, “It took you long enough. Now about that kiss…”

You gave a startled laugh when Wilford dipped you down, away from most of the other egos, so low you thought your shoulders might touch the floor before he paused, gave you a wink, and then spun you back up onto your feet.

“How’s that for a not-kiss?” Wilford asked the room at large, over the whistling and clapping.

“Confirmed, there was no kiss,” one of the Googles said, and to your confusion there was a mixed response to that around the room.

“But anything could have happened there,” Yan protested with some nudging from nearby egos before you could think about that. “How can I know if someone else is kissing my Prince or not if I can’t even see what’s going on?”

“That’s the point of that kind of stage kiss,” you pointed out. “It lets the audience fill in the blank. Or there are other ways to handle the kissing scene.”

“And I think you might have jumped the gun a tad there, Wilford,” Ed pointed out. “There’s a bit more chit-chatting that goes on before the kiss, you see.”

Wilford nodded along with all of these points and then snapped his fingers. “Right, take it slow, and easy with the kiss. Like a first date.”

He turned back to you and said, “Hey, Prince, I’ve got a fun idea…”

Wilford leaned in and kissed your cheek before gently whispering in your ear, “Let’s steal a car tonight.”

You couldn’t keep a straight face no matter how hard you tried as you said, “I might be up for breaking a couple rules tonight.”

Wilford grinned even when Yan said, “No, absolutely not, that was way too flirty.”

“Guilty as charged,” Wilford admitted with a shrug before taking a seat.

“And forehead and cheek kisses are even worse than real kisses,” Yan muttered.

“What, since when?” you asked, frowning when you saw some of the other egos nodding in agreement.

“They don’t count,” Bim said, and then looked around when he realized just how loud that was. “I mean…We were trying to show Yan that it’s possible to have a romantic scene without the actors actually being in love, right?”

“Which you still haven’t done,” Yan said. “Wilford, do you love Y/N?”

“Do I love them? Why, I’d shoot everyone in this room for them if they asked!” Wilford answered, and no one felt the need to challenge him on that.

“For the record, I’m not asking and never will,” you said and Wilford shrugged before sitting back in his chair, hand off his gun. “And Yan, how many times are we going to have to do this? Shouldn’t you be the one rehearsing?”

“Uh…” Yan looked at the others on the couch and around the room. “Who else can we get to play Cinderella?”

“The Host hasn’t gotten to play yet,” the King of the Squirrels said.

The Host frowned in the direction of the ego and said, “The Host…politely declines Kin-the King’s invitation, as he prefers to narrate stories, not be a part of them. The Host also points out before the others insist that, even if he were to do so, it would fail to acknowledge a fundamental flaw with these ‘exercises.’”

“What’s that?” Bim asked warily, and you couldn’t help but notice that the other egos were very focused on the Host’s answer.

As if sensing that, the Host sighed and muttered something. Only Dark was close enough to hear what sounded suspiciously like, “This might as well happen,” before the ego spoke up for everyone else.

“Yandereplier insists that it is impossible to confess love within the context of a play without the actors being in love, to which Y/N disagrees. The problem is that so far, all of the ‘actors’ already loved each other. Perhaps not romantically, but platonic and familial love are still forms of love, and their acting has done nothing to change its existence. The Host is reluctant to point out that to prove either right would require another actor who does not already love Y/N.”

You stood there alone in the middle of the room as the egos looked around at each other for a moment before saying, “Well, I guess that’s that then. I’m going to—”

“Well, what about Dark?”

There was silence in the room except for the creak of wood coming from within Dark’s growing aura as he finally gave up on pretending to read and looked around the room.

“Who said that?”

“Well, I didn’t suggest nothin’,” Ed spoke up, “But way I see it, that would fit the bill.”

“Unless you _love_ them,” King added with a cheeky grin.

“It’s just a play, Y/N,” Bim added. “None of it’s real. Come on, you can’t let me down now.”

Dark narrowed his eyes even as he felt his aura settle in around him. He had noticed there was something off about the egos, and now it was clear that something was going on around the edges of the room and on the couches of the ‘audience,’ more than just a debate on whether the new arrangement should count or not. He could shut it down now, or…

“You’re right Bim, it’s just a play,” you answered. “But I can still say right now there is no way I am going to kiss that—”

You stopped short when Dark sighed loudly and stood up. His book, left in the seat of his chair, did nothing to stop Wilford from stealing it, but Dark did not seem to notice as he walked over to the other couch and took Yan’s copy of the script from the ego’s unresisting hands. He could feel all eyes on him as he lazily read over the scene in question until he finally spoke.

“If I recall correctly, the agreement was to perform the lines and the kiss, was it not? I can think of a way to stage it in such a way that might suit Yandere’s…_shifting_ goalposts. Unless someone here has a problem with that?”

He waited, suppressing a smile when he saw the egos giving each other meaningful looks while no one actually spoke up. Oh, it felt good to call a bluff.

That is, until the King of the Squirrels raised his hand and asked, “So does that mean you’ll do it?”

And suddenly Dark was not smiling anymore.

“I feel like the Host made a good point—” Dr. Iplier started.

“The Host asks to be left out of this, please.”

“—And if we don’t settle it now, no one’s going to let it go,” Dr. Iplier continued without acknowledging the interruption.

“Past observational data would suggest the doctor is correct on that,” Google added.

Maybe, and this was difficult to admit even to himself, Dark _may_ have misread the situation a little.

When you spoke up, he was sure that it was to end this farce, but instead you said, “What did you have in mind, Dark?”

“What?”

“Staging it,” you answered, and he could hear the frustration clipping your words short. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Dark hesitated. It was either read the scene or endure the childish mockery of the egos, and as stupid as it was, he could not bow out now without losing face in front of everyone. And he suspected that something similar may have been going through your mind as he moved closer.

He sighed and closed his eyes, letting his aura settle until it was barely visible again. You were right, it was best to just get this over with.

“A kiss on the stage means nothing,” Dark said to you and the room at large when he opened his eyes again. “But if you’re insistent on avoiding a physical kiss, one way is to have something in between the two actors’ lips. For example, put a hand on the other person’s cheek—”

As he spoke, he reached up a hand and you instinctively flinched away.

“Y/N,” he said quietly and you glared at him but let him place a hand on your cheek that was on the same side of most of the egos. “Then you just slide your thumb over the other person’s lips and kiss the thumb. It looks close enough to a real kiss if done right, even if it wouldn’t really fool an audience. That should suit your criteria, Yan.”

He let his hand drop and looked to the ego for confirmation.

“…I guess we can see how it looks,” Yan said, glancing at the others before adding, “Let’s try the Prince and Cinderella’s second scene again. So, ball’s over, the Prince has been searching the entire kingdom, Cinderella escaped her stepfamily’s house, drama, drama, and then the Prince finally finds Cinderella walking through the woods with the help of who cares, point is they’re back together again.”

“I feel like we missed a few things,” Silver said.

“I feel like you owe me a dance,” Dark said to you, smiling when you gave him a warning look.

“Who cares?” Yan asked. “This is the important part anyways. Y/N, you start.”

You nodded and glanced at your script again. “Starlight? Is that really you? Are we finally, finally together again?”

A cough barely hid the word, “Act!” from the egos and you gave an exaggerated groan before repeating the line, this time moving closer to Dark as you did so.

Dark barely glanced at his line before drawing away, his eyes not meeting yours. “Please, my Prince. You know that is not my name.”

“But it is you, isn’t it?” You moved closer again. “What may I call you?”

“As I told you before, my name is unimportant to one such as yourself, my Prince.”

You faked a smile, which was difficult as the script told you to reach out and take Dark’s hand. “Haven’t you noticed yet? Could you not know how long I have been searching for you, how far and how long I have looked? You are so very important to me, and I don’t even know your real name.”

“Haven’t _you_ noticed, my Prince? Look at me!” Dark pulled away again and gestured to himself. “I am not the same person you met that night, I never was. I am not your Starlight.”

He turned away from you, head dipping down as he added in a low undertone that still carried through the whole room, “I had a name once. Ella. But I lost it years ago, when my life turned to cinders and ashes. Now all that’s left is ‘Cinderella,’ a pretender and a fake who had to resort to magic to even stand in the same room as Your Highness.”

“Ella.” You paused and then added, “Please, Ella, turn around.”

Dark’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve even heard that name.”

You looked to the script again before, not without some hesitation, placing a hand on Dark’s elbow. “Then let me say it, again and again and again. I love you, Ella.”

“My Prince?” Dark turned and suddenly his hands were on you, one on your waist, the other cupping the side of your face. “I—”

One of the egos made a buzzer sound and there was a round of disapproval around the room.

**_“What?”_** Dark asked, his aura flaring up briefly until you pushed his hand away.

You rubbed at your jaw and flinched both at the numb spot already prickling as the feeling returned and at the sudden flicker and buzz of images in the back of your mind. It wouldn’t have been the first time one of the others triggered a memory from the District Attorney, but this was different, less like a vision of the past and more like a haze of different moments just slightly too far out of reach that left you with an unsettling mix of nostalgia and déjà vu.

“You’re doing great,” Dr. Iplier said, ignoring Bim’s ambivalent gesture beside him, “But that last action felt a little…off.”

“What do you mean?” Dark asked, trying hard to rein in his aura and his temper.

“Looking at the scene, Cinderella wouldn’t be holding the Prince like…that,” Bim said, gesturing toward Dark. “That’s more like something the _Prince _should be doing, going by the dialogue. He’s the one who should be initiating the hands-on stuff.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely the top in the relationship,” Yan said.

“Yan!” You glared at the ego, who shrugged.

“Just calling it like I see it.”

“I fail to see how it matters,” Dark muttered at the script.

“It just would feel more accurate, I think,” Bim said with a shrug. “That is, if Y/N can handle being the—”

“I swear to God, Trimmer, if you finish that sentence I will—” You stopped short on your threat, if only because this close you could see Dark struggling not to laugh, but you still felt a spike of anger that didn’t quite match your own reaction. You breathed out and it faded, slightly, but as it did you could now feel a twisting roil of emotions rising and falling with the haze of memories at the back of your mind.

“I didn’t see anything wrong with the scene,” Silver threw in, and soon the egos were debating on who should be holding who.

“Whatever gets this over with,” you said, taking another deep breath which seemed to help before placing a hand on Dark’s shoulder, only for him to wince with a light hiss. You drew back your hand quickly with a quiet, “I’m sorry, I forgot—”

Dark rolled his shoulder, clearly avoiding the urge to rub at it as he answered in a quiet voice that would not carry to the others, “It’s fine, just a little sore.”

“I thought…Shouldn’t you have healed by now?” you asked. You had seen the wound in Dark’s chest up close, but you had also seen him recover from other injuries much faster than a normal person.

“Some things take longer,” he muttered. “It may have something to do with the thing that did it. Like I said, I’m fine.”

His aura flared slightly and you nodded, deciding not to push any farther. You put one hand on his upper arm instead, the other resting on his good shoulder with the script turned so that you could still read from it. The memories spiked but disappeared just as fast before you could make anything out, but they left behind a rush of clashing emotions, such as joy tainted by pain, sadness twisted around guilt, a noxious blend of peaceful happiness and anger.

Was something going on with the District Attorney? But why would this stupid high school play bother them like this? Or had that brief brush with Dark’s aura done it?

If you said something now the egos would just think you were trying to get out of the scene, or worse, start to worry. Speaking of the egos, they were already starting to settle down again and the room was quiet by the time Dark repeated Cinderella’s lines.

“My Prince? I—you can’t mean that. I am just Cinderella.”

There weren’t too many lines left, you told yourself as you read, “Ella, or Cinderella, here in the woods or in any palace, no matter what form you take, the answer will always be the same: I love you, my Starlight. And unlike a magic spell, my love has no time limit. Is the same true for you, or should I leave you be?”

You glanced away from the script and met Dark’s eyes just as he said, “Do you not see the answer in my eyes? I love you, my Prince. My heart beats for you like no other.”

The room around you faded briefly as the memories attempted to surface. Once again, they moved out of reach at the last second, leaving you so disoriented that for a moment you were barely aware of where you were or the touch of Dark’s hand on the side of your face.

“If I am your Starlight, then you are my Sunlight, giving life to my days.”

The sickening mix of emotions returned stronger than ever, pulling you into a hundred different directions as he leaned in for the “kiss.” Until they all converged onto one single, overpowering emotion when you realized: his thumb hadn’t moved to your lips.

The slap resonated in the silent room as you suddenly found yourself with one hand pressed against Dark’s mouth.

Heart hammering, a little light-headed but back in control, you paused only for a split-second before leaning in and kissing the back of your hand above Dark’s lips.

“There, one kiss that means absolutely nothing,” you said to the room at large. “If that’s not enough for you, get someone else to play the Prince.”

With that, you tossed your script down and walked out of the room.

Dark stood alone in the middle of the room, one hand still raised to his stinging mouth, and slowly became aware of the conversation going on among the egos once they recovered.

“That didn’t really count as a kiss, did it?” Silver asked. “I know Roxanne says nothing should get in the way of our, heh, quality time, which is why my mask keeps these luscious lips ready for puckering.”

“I did not need to know that,” Dr. Iplier muttered.

“Well, no one said it couldn’t be a stage kiss,” Ed pointed out. “It’s more than I’ve gotten in a while, if you know what I mean.”

“Surprising no one,” Bim said, earning an elbow to the ribs from the salesman. He winced and added, “But someone with more experience in the area such as myself can tell you, that wasn’t a kiss.”

“This just in, Jim,” Jim said as he turned to his brother with a conspiratorial whisper, “Popular opinion is that it was too close to call. It looks like we’ll have to rely on our impartial judges for a ruling on the bet.”

Dark’s aura did not just spread out, it started to leech the color from the area around him with a deep, thrumming noise.

** _“What did you just say?”_ **

Almost everyone who had turned to look at the Googles suddenly pretended to be busy or just very interested in the furniture as the sounds of Dark’s aura filled the entire room.

The Host’s lips moved silently as he read ahead before he answered, ignoring the hissed warnings from the other egos, “They are referring to whether the kiss in question would count toward the bet going on among some of the egos. In particular, the portion of the bet that related to whether or not Y/N would kiss certain persons in the room, along with other certain outcomes.”

“Yan,” Dark said and the ego quailed under his glare.

“Don’t blame me! I really did need the help…until I found out Senpai was going to be working with the stage crew and not actually in the play,” Yan said, their voice becoming a petulant mutter at that last part, then they spoke up again to add, “I was going to say something when I found out, but then _they_ told me to keep it going!”

“The bet was not for monetary gain, if that is any consolation,” the Google in the red shirt said as he pulled up a screen. “If you are curious, it appears that the greatest odds were on Y/N not kissing anyone. The single condition with the lowest number of winners would have been if Y/N finished the scene and kissed Darkiplier.”

“Excuse me?” Dark felt his aura lash out again and the Google frowned at his glitching screen.

“Even better question, why wasn’t I let in on this?” Wilford asked, the picture of indignation.

“You were not even included in the pool,” Google answered. “It is well known that Wilford Warfstache will happily kiss anyone if given the chance.”

Wilford opened his mouth as if to protest and then sat back with a shrug. “You got me there. Well, who won?”

“No one,” Dark assured Wilford with a crack of his neck. He would see to that personally.

Bim Trimmer, who had been consulting with the original Google, turned to the rest of the room and asked, “Okay, which one of you put odds on both a slap _and_ a kiss?”

And Dark added, along with the echoing hum and creak of his aura, “More importantly, which one of you **_idiots_** came up with this bet?”

The Host gave a heavy sigh, but it wasn’t immediately clear which question he was responding to when he said, “…Kinkiplier.”

A second later, Dark’s aura reached a new high pitch.

** _“Why are you all looking at me?!”_ **

* * *

Down the hall, you winced at the high-pitched ringing coming from the living room but kept walking. Maybe some fresh air outside would clear your head. However, when you opened the back door you almost ran into the person standing on the other side, who had his hand raised to knock.

“Oh, hi Y/N. I’m the King of the Squirrels.”

“Hi King,” you said, eyes turned upwards as though fascinated with the top of the doorframe. “Trust me, I know who you are.”

“Good,” the King said with a sigh of relief. “I was afraid no one would recognize me without my crown. I fell asleep and when I woke up it was gone!”

“Y-yeah, I can see that,” you said. “Uh, King—”

“Can’t go walking around without a crown! Luckily, I knew how to make a temporary one,” the King said, and you risked looking down far enough to see that he was pointing to the flower crown on his head. “Will you help me find my real one? I’ll let you have my flower one if you do!”

“Uh, sure, but can we go by the laundry room first?” you asked. “I think there should be plenty of spare clothes for, uh…”

The King of the Squirrels looked down at his very naked self and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess if you think that’s important, but I don’t think my crown will be there.”

“Believe me, it’s important,” you said, leading the way. On the way to the laundry room, you could hear the loud voices coming from down the hall, but fortunately you didn’t have to go close enough to make out any actual words. “Hey, King, what did you think of Cinderella? I guess it must have been boring if you left early to go take a nap.”

“What? No, I love that movie!” the King said, and proceeded to hum the tune of “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo” while getting dressed.

You thought that was strange, but didn’t question it further. After all, the day had been strange enough on its own and left you with more than enough to think about. Besides, looking for a lost crown sounded like a far better alternative to any more acting.


End file.
